Words. Scattered. Whirls of thought. The classic movie 'Bringing Up Baby' is accompanying me as I write, and proving to be utterly delightful. In fact it's so impressive that 'His Girl Friday' is on its way now to make up the pair. Cary Grant has leapfrogged up dramatically on my personal popularity chart!
It's confusing to be temporarily back in research. Today, my day was spent in trying to devise a suitable set of boundary conditions for slipping Stokes flow in a constriction geometry, which is nowhere near as complicated as it sounds. What it is is really really tricky to pull off without material spilling all over and across the physical boundaries. Sigh and double sigh. Finite elements are not useful. All this and a set of solutions for a past paper still to do!
Coverage on the Quirky Muffin is going to becomes erratic over the next few weeks, as holidays and conferences intrude on the regular pattern. If there are regular readers, the author humbly requests you be patient until the disruptions lighten up toward the end of May. Hopefully the rest will reinvigorate the atrophied creative muscles, and allow time for some story ideas to be roughed out properly.
<Watches climax to the film>
What a lovely little film! Howard Hawks is one of those mysterious directors I refuse to learn more about. In truth learning too much about anyone out there in the entertainment land really lessens their likeability. Let Grace Kelly be ethereal on the screen, but I refuse to find out more about her starlet behaviour, especially as the little I know I wish I didn't. Oh, humans, we can't be trusted anywhere! Who wants to know that Scarlet Johansson smokes (ick) or anything about Tom Cruise at all?
O.
Monday, 14 April 2014
Saturday, 12 April 2014
Television: 'The Incredible Hulk' (1978 to 1982)
'The Incredible Hulk' ran from 1978 to 1982 (with two pilot tv movies in 1977) and is a classic example (the first, in fact) of how to translate a ridiculous comic book character to television. The secret, as show creator Kenneth Johnson knew, was to make it psychological and to strip out as much of the extraneous material as possible. The only surviving aspects were the surname Banner, the angry version of the Hulk creature itself, and the term 'gamma radiation'. Those concepts were merged with the lonely running man formula coined by 'The Fugitive' and formed the basis of an incredibly and briefly popular phenomenon.
The Hulk was a fascinating - and melancholy - exercise in formula, a grand psychological exercise in portraying the monsters in everyone and not just David Bruce Banner. That was why Bill Bixby signed up to play Banner, a coup in what should have been a silly comic book show. That was the arena that the show excelled in, but it was also the curse that ultimately broke the show's own back. As with most formula shows, the formula either has to change over time or cripple the show fatally. On this occasion the formula stayed exactly the same and doomed the whole enterprise, if running for four seasons can be called a failure.
When the formula worked, though, 'The Incredible Hulk' was a majestic cheesy mass of excellence. Normally we would join the story en media res, with a new job for Banner and a seemingly acceptable standard of life. Then the problem would develop, an abusive person or criminal or domestic conflict, before finally Banner would become involved and the Hulk emerged. After that either inflamed or resolved the situation, Banner / Hulk would reappear and fix the situation before fleeing the scene with down-on-his-luck reporter Jack McGee on his tail. And that would be it. For four and a bit seasons. Banner never stops hating the Hulk, and fearing his actions, and in fact McGee gets more character development than the lead! Viewed in isolation any sequence of episodes is awesome, but as a whole it becomes problematic. Having said that I love the show, even in the campness of Lou Ferrigno busting out of his clothes and roaring madly. Never were so many bad people thrown over so many things, even when you include Mr T in 'The A-Team'.
Oh, if only there could have been development over the series. If only David Banner could have come to partly accept that the Hulk wasn't a killer or to be feared. If only he could have considered that curing himself would be akin to murder? If only he could have taken solace from the incredible list of women he romanced over the course of four years, the player that he was. Formula can't run forever. And if only not every episode hadn't finished on a down-note.
It was a great cheesy show, hammy to the fifth level, and silly beyond belief. Still, I liked it.
O.
The Hulk was a fascinating - and melancholy - exercise in formula, a grand psychological exercise in portraying the monsters in everyone and not just David Bruce Banner. That was why Bill Bixby signed up to play Banner, a coup in what should have been a silly comic book show. That was the arena that the show excelled in, but it was also the curse that ultimately broke the show's own back. As with most formula shows, the formula either has to change over time or cripple the show fatally. On this occasion the formula stayed exactly the same and doomed the whole enterprise, if running for four seasons can be called a failure.
When the formula worked, though, 'The Incredible Hulk' was a majestic cheesy mass of excellence. Normally we would join the story en media res, with a new job for Banner and a seemingly acceptable standard of life. Then the problem would develop, an abusive person or criminal or domestic conflict, before finally Banner would become involved and the Hulk emerged. After that either inflamed or resolved the situation, Banner / Hulk would reappear and fix the situation before fleeing the scene with down-on-his-luck reporter Jack McGee on his tail. And that would be it. For four and a bit seasons. Banner never stops hating the Hulk, and fearing his actions, and in fact McGee gets more character development than the lead! Viewed in isolation any sequence of episodes is awesome, but as a whole it becomes problematic. Having said that I love the show, even in the campness of Lou Ferrigno busting out of his clothes and roaring madly. Never were so many bad people thrown over so many things, even when you include Mr T in 'The A-Team'.
Oh, if only there could have been development over the series. If only David Banner could have come to partly accept that the Hulk wasn't a killer or to be feared. If only he could have considered that curing himself would be akin to murder? If only he could have taken solace from the incredible list of women he romanced over the course of four years, the player that he was. Formula can't run forever. And if only not every episode hadn't finished on a down-note.
It was a great cheesy show, hammy to the fifth level, and silly beyond belief. Still, I liked it.
O.
Thursday, 10 April 2014
Think it through
You can't really just be a lecturer at a university; That's one of the sad things about life in academia. You really need a research career too, which is far far harder. Research is the life blood of funding and maintaining university standards, but it is also a job which demands genuine interest in the researcher, lest their mind be lost due to the insane traumas of pursuing a path into the unknown.
Why talk about this? The short answer is that I need new projects, topics which spark some genuine interest and which aren't linked to the tortuous five year doctoral project that almost ended what remained of my sanity. It is not a joke, you really do have to be interested madly in what you're studying in a PhD, otherwise it doesn't work. Fortunately I was interested enough, unfortunately it was still just a little wrong even after viva. C'est la vie, Clompie.
There are fascinating fields to try and work into. Think about growing plants for a moment, and the dynamics involved in how stems, leaves and petals develop so quickly. Imagine coral reefs and the rich ecosystems of life that exist and depend on each other. What happens when you clap your hands underwater? Are there underlying patterns to species diversity in forests and groves and farmland? Are there mathematical patterns underpinning narrative forms? Can we link mathematics to primal language and form our own Rosetta Stones?
It's hard to break into a new field, especially when you're still rather jaded from a doctorate and tough life experiences, and concerned about whether you're even suited for research at all. It's a tough job, one which requires long long hours, flexibility, and rigid self-control in taking care of yourself. If you work too hard you can go mad - mad! maaaaaaaaa! - and end up walking around Llanbadarn campus in your pyjamas, asking people where the ice cream van is, in December. And you have to read a lot, many many articles that you might not understand at first or second readings, but which could point towards the idea or article that inspires you to do the thing that might lead to interesting things.
Research. It's fun. If you can just get there...
O.
Why talk about this? The short answer is that I need new projects, topics which spark some genuine interest and which aren't linked to the tortuous five year doctoral project that almost ended what remained of my sanity. It is not a joke, you really do have to be interested madly in what you're studying in a PhD, otherwise it doesn't work. Fortunately I was interested enough, unfortunately it was still just a little wrong even after viva. C'est la vie, Clompie.
There are fascinating fields to try and work into. Think about growing plants for a moment, and the dynamics involved in how stems, leaves and petals develop so quickly. Imagine coral reefs and the rich ecosystems of life that exist and depend on each other. What happens when you clap your hands underwater? Are there underlying patterns to species diversity in forests and groves and farmland? Are there mathematical patterns underpinning narrative forms? Can we link mathematics to primal language and form our own Rosetta Stones?
It's hard to break into a new field, especially when you're still rather jaded from a doctorate and tough life experiences, and concerned about whether you're even suited for research at all. It's a tough job, one which requires long long hours, flexibility, and rigid self-control in taking care of yourself. If you work too hard you can go mad - mad! maaaaaaaaa! - and end up walking around Llanbadarn campus in your pyjamas, asking people where the ice cream van is, in December. And you have to read a lot, many many articles that you might not understand at first or second readings, but which could point towards the idea or article that inspires you to do the thing that might lead to interesting things.
Research. It's fun. If you can just get there...
O.
Tuesday, 8 April 2014
Story: Oneiromancy, VI
(Part O , V , VII)
The scene: A back room at the Blue Monkey cafe.
The time: Six minutes and twenty seconds after the stately faint of waitress Helen Ostrander to the floor in the main cafe.
The cast: Helen (stirring), a nurse patron called Jeremy, and teacher Stanley Simonson.
The prose:
Jeremy sat nervously in the small room, as Jeremy wiped the blood away from the wound that the waitress had incurred while collapsing in the cafe proper. How he had managed to get into the back room he had no idea, but dimly he was aware of having offered to help the man move her away from the customers. Then he had sat down and stared blankly at the corner of the room. Jeremy had assumed and moved on.
The blood was cleaned away from the pretty eyes and the handsome mouth and Stanley came back down to the terrestrial world with a start.
"You know the lady?"
"No and yes. Yes and no. Just before she fainted we saw each other and something... happened."
Jeremy squinted and continued. "She took a bad bump. You don't look so good either."
Helen's eyes fluttered and she came back to the world of the conscious. The nurse man held her for a moment so she wouldn't get up until she was safe and the gently checked her eyes and pulse. Stanley went back to staring at the corner.
"What's that man doing here?" Asked the waitress, who could only see part of Stanley's profile from where she was. He glanced at her and her eyes widened. He still seemed so real compared to everything else. A big block of solidity in a watercolour world.
"This guy helped me bring you in here and then he hung around looking faint. I guess he didn't think you should be left alone with me." Jeremy winked.
"I... Ow!"
"Yes, I wouldn't talk very loud as you took a bit of a blow to the head. I want you to be careful for the rest of the day and if anything unusual at all happens please go get help." Jeremy collected himself up. "I would go see a doctor anyway just in case they want to give you stitches. They like to give people the Bride of Frankenstein look! And concussions scare us constantly."
"Ha ha. Okay, I'll listen to you, whoever you are. I'll go home too, just to be safe. After talking to this man outside." Jeremy and Stanley helped her up and then backed off as she scowled at them. They went outside, Jeremy made his farewells and then Helen and Stanley sat at the counter for a while.
Stanley broke finally. "I don't know what to say. Do you?"
"Not a clue."
"We may be thinking completely different things. Missing the point completely."
"You could be an obsessive waitress murderer, and I could be wondering why you look exactly like my Uncle Ernie."
"You have an Uncle Ernie?"
"I did, but he vanished one day while hunting teachers in the woods. You want to hear my idea?"
"Yes, I'm all ears."
"Unfortunately that's true, yes. Write down what you think is going on, in as much detail as you can. I'll do the same. If the accounts match then at least we'll be mutually insane."
"We compare notes tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow. I think I need to go sleep some more. It's been a disturbed week."
"Yes. Yes, it has. My name's Stanley. Simonson."
"Helen Ostrander. I'm sorry, I have to go and make an excuse for the boss and then go. Five o'clock here tomorrow evening?"
"Yes. I have to go too. Tomorrow, Miss Ostrander. Helen."
"This is weird. Very weird. Bye." Helen bustled her way - with an exaggerated dizzy sway - into the kitchen and Stanley wandered out. Nothing to do but write and wait until the next day. What kind of day would it be?
To be continued...
The scene: A back room at the Blue Monkey cafe.
The time: Six minutes and twenty seconds after the stately faint of waitress Helen Ostrander to the floor in the main cafe.
The cast: Helen (stirring), a nurse patron called Jeremy, and teacher Stanley Simonson.
The prose:
Jeremy sat nervously in the small room, as Jeremy wiped the blood away from the wound that the waitress had incurred while collapsing in the cafe proper. How he had managed to get into the back room he had no idea, but dimly he was aware of having offered to help the man move her away from the customers. Then he had sat down and stared blankly at the corner of the room. Jeremy had assumed and moved on.
The blood was cleaned away from the pretty eyes and the handsome mouth and Stanley came back down to the terrestrial world with a start.
"You know the lady?"
"No and yes. Yes and no. Just before she fainted we saw each other and something... happened."
Jeremy squinted and continued. "She took a bad bump. You don't look so good either."
Helen's eyes fluttered and she came back to the world of the conscious. The nurse man held her for a moment so she wouldn't get up until she was safe and the gently checked her eyes and pulse. Stanley went back to staring at the corner.
"What's that man doing here?" Asked the waitress, who could only see part of Stanley's profile from where she was. He glanced at her and her eyes widened. He still seemed so real compared to everything else. A big block of solidity in a watercolour world.
"This guy helped me bring you in here and then he hung around looking faint. I guess he didn't think you should be left alone with me." Jeremy winked.
"I... Ow!"
"Yes, I wouldn't talk very loud as you took a bit of a blow to the head. I want you to be careful for the rest of the day and if anything unusual at all happens please go get help." Jeremy collected himself up. "I would go see a doctor anyway just in case they want to give you stitches. They like to give people the Bride of Frankenstein look! And concussions scare us constantly."
"Ha ha. Okay, I'll listen to you, whoever you are. I'll go home too, just to be safe. After talking to this man outside." Jeremy and Stanley helped her up and then backed off as she scowled at them. They went outside, Jeremy made his farewells and then Helen and Stanley sat at the counter for a while.
Stanley broke finally. "I don't know what to say. Do you?"
"Not a clue."
"We may be thinking completely different things. Missing the point completely."
"You could be an obsessive waitress murderer, and I could be wondering why you look exactly like my Uncle Ernie."
"You have an Uncle Ernie?"
"I did, but he vanished one day while hunting teachers in the woods. You want to hear my idea?"
"Yes, I'm all ears."
"Unfortunately that's true, yes. Write down what you think is going on, in as much detail as you can. I'll do the same. If the accounts match then at least we'll be mutually insane."
"We compare notes tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow. I think I need to go sleep some more. It's been a disturbed week."
"Yes. Yes, it has. My name's Stanley. Simonson."
"Helen Ostrander. I'm sorry, I have to go and make an excuse for the boss and then go. Five o'clock here tomorrow evening?"
"Yes. I have to go too. Tomorrow, Miss Ostrander. Helen."
"This is weird. Very weird. Bye." Helen bustled her way - with an exaggerated dizzy sway - into the kitchen and Stanley wandered out. Nothing to do but write and wait until the next day. What kind of day would it be?
To be continued...
Sunday, 6 April 2014
Way out there
Once again the golden spike has been driven through the heart of an exam and it's time to move on. This was a particularly hard one, in my unhumble opinion, probably comprising fifty percent more material than a regular Maths exam. And it took forever!
<The stars look lovely, so charming and sedate>
Teaching, relearning, and preparing assessment for a module at the same time can be a daunting affair. At times almost overwhelming in fact but it is now for all intents done, barring a bit more coursework marking. The marking shall be done using 'Marking Gambit C'. Nothing works quite like old option C, the 'lying on the floor and listening to movies and music as you work' tactic. Option A was discredited long ago due to the problems associated with burning heretics on a stake driven into piles of burning coursework, and option B was dismissed many years ago when the notion of sending people on expenses paid cruises to get marking done was sadly not time-effective. Now all that are left are floors and the ineffectual option (X) of last resort: Doing it in the office. Bleuch!
<We spin around the sun, our planet so serene>
At some point I will go mad in an office. Stark raving mad at being trapped in function-specific space and battling every perverse and evasive muscle in the mind. Offices... What places of horror and lunacy! They'll find me one day waving a washing up sponge, talking to it as if were an old friend called Mickey, and jumping whenever anyone says 'staff meeting'. Still, apart from the offices, it's quite a good job. Apart from the barbarian seagulls of course, which are descended from the Hun seagulls of many many centuries ago.
<Time, that insubstantial thing, so vital but translucent>
It can probably be deduced that there's little to write on this occasion in the Quirky Muffin. A week of exam proofing has been rather draining, as has having been just a little bit sick, and confused at a sudden extension of the old work contract. It's lovely of course, but only knowing three months at a time is rather wearing.
<The universe, so quiet, so damaged and yet so, so complete>
Exam proofing was accelerated by finally getting up to date with 'The Mentalist' DVDs, where I am now only two episodes away from finishing the fifth season. Huzzah! Once again my instinct is that the show is better than people think it is. A lot better than 'Elementary', for example. However, there is some vibe out there in critical land that seems to forbid people from talking about it. How strange. It's above average and occasionally excellent, and occasionally dreadful.
And with that, the close.
<Clouds over stars, nebulae far above, gaseous wombs of celestial love>
O.
PS If this seems strange, be thankful you never saw the original version!
PPS If you're one of my students, be afraid. Very afraid. Nyahahahahahah!
PPPS No, not really, it will be fine.
PPPPS Liquorice.
<The stars look lovely, so charming and sedate>
Teaching, relearning, and preparing assessment for a module at the same time can be a daunting affair. At times almost overwhelming in fact but it is now for all intents done, barring a bit more coursework marking. The marking shall be done using 'Marking Gambit C'. Nothing works quite like old option C, the 'lying on the floor and listening to movies and music as you work' tactic. Option A was discredited long ago due to the problems associated with burning heretics on a stake driven into piles of burning coursework, and option B was dismissed many years ago when the notion of sending people on expenses paid cruises to get marking done was sadly not time-effective. Now all that are left are floors and the ineffectual option (X) of last resort: Doing it in the office. Bleuch!
<We spin around the sun, our planet so serene>
At some point I will go mad in an office. Stark raving mad at being trapped in function-specific space and battling every perverse and evasive muscle in the mind. Offices... What places of horror and lunacy! They'll find me one day waving a washing up sponge, talking to it as if were an old friend called Mickey, and jumping whenever anyone says 'staff meeting'. Still, apart from the offices, it's quite a good job. Apart from the barbarian seagulls of course, which are descended from the Hun seagulls of many many centuries ago.
<Time, that insubstantial thing, so vital but translucent>
It can probably be deduced that there's little to write on this occasion in the Quirky Muffin. A week of exam proofing has been rather draining, as has having been just a little bit sick, and confused at a sudden extension of the old work contract. It's lovely of course, but only knowing three months at a time is rather wearing.
<The universe, so quiet, so damaged and yet so, so complete>
Exam proofing was accelerated by finally getting up to date with 'The Mentalist' DVDs, where I am now only two episodes away from finishing the fifth season. Huzzah! Once again my instinct is that the show is better than people think it is. A lot better than 'Elementary', for example. However, there is some vibe out there in critical land that seems to forbid people from talking about it. How strange. It's above average and occasionally excellent, and occasionally dreadful.
And with that, the close.
<Clouds over stars, nebulae far above, gaseous wombs of celestial love>
O.
PS If this seems strange, be thankful you never saw the original version!
PPS If you're one of my students, be afraid. Very afraid. Nyahahahahahah!
PPPS No, not really, it will be fine.
PPPPS Liquorice.
Friday, 4 April 2014
Movie: Some thoughts on 'The Muppets: Most Wanted' (2014)
Two things spring to mind immediately upon starting this post: Postman Pat and fast cutting. After that Tarzan and low expectations. This was a rough one. Lets proceed with three things in mind, once Pat has been exhausted:
1) Did you like the movie?
2) Was it a good movie?
3) Was it a good Muppet movie?
'Muppets Most Wanted' has been getting decidedly mixed reviews, and I can certainly see why. Once the trauma of adverts and trailers and the preceding short had faded away it was rather hard to settle down as there was nothing to settle down into. In my mind this movie is actually called 'Muppets Non-Stop' due to the fact that there was never time to relax and love it! It was non-stop, in a way that none of the previous films have been. There was no time just to like the characters, no time to appreciate Animal being cuddly or Gonzo's collaboration with Salma Hayek, no time just to smell the flowers and love having a new Muppet movie in itself. That was a problem for me, as it relates directly to my current film phobia: Fast cutting. Fast cutting is a ubiquitous phenomenon at the moment, and loathsome in the extreme. Want to know why I didn't write about or love 'The Lego Movie'? Blasted fast cutting! Mutter mutter. At least the 'Lego Movie' didn't have a demonic cyborg Postman Pat movie trailer preceding it though. That was seriously disturbing. They have done something bad in Postman Pat land. Beware, little children, beware.
In any case, back to the Muppets, and the questions above. The first question is the most conflicting. This whole blog could end up reading as if the movie is bad or that I hated it. Neither of those is true; I just didn't love it, which is a crime for a Muppets movie. Again, pacing is a massive issue here. So many jokes, and good ones, didn't get to land as they went by so quickly. There were very few moments which were allowed to linger for their full effect. My whole being wants to love Muppet movies, but this one didn't stick around long enough to be loved.
The second question is easier, as it probably is a pretty good movie by modern standards. It's not as good as 'The Muppets' but then that had five years of preparatory work spent on it, whereas this did not. On the other hand, the pacing is a monumental problem personally so who am I to say? Who can be the fair arbiters of these things? My suspicion is that it's good movie for people who aren't me. It was even a good movie for me, just one that could have been great.
Finally, the third and most vital question. This is the most conflicting and confusing question of them all. At an instinctive level, this is a not a good Muppet movie. How that is true when it is packed full of so many authentic Muppet moments, homages, and even has Sam the Eagle's only significant role in a film is beyond me. Every Muppet appears that I can think of, every single one, and yet it's not quite a good Muppet movie. 'The Muppets' was, despite some tonal issues, but this somehow now. How was it now? I have no idea. None. The Muppet voices were worse than last time, but that's not enough to kill Muppetiness. Perhaps it was the explosions and frog martial arts? It could be that, as non-silly violence and Muppets do not mix. Animal and Sam both had big parts but still it didn't quite work. What was up with it?! This might be a personal problem again, but it was just a little bit off. Maybe it was Postman Pat putting off the whole thing again.
Blasted Postman Pat and his laser-powered cat. I shudder. Ignore the whole post; Postman Pat and a science fiction Tarzan ruined it all.
O.
1) Did you like the movie?
2) Was it a good movie?
3) Was it a good Muppet movie?
'Muppets Most Wanted' has been getting decidedly mixed reviews, and I can certainly see why. Once the trauma of adverts and trailers and the preceding short had faded away it was rather hard to settle down as there was nothing to settle down into. In my mind this movie is actually called 'Muppets Non-Stop' due to the fact that there was never time to relax and love it! It was non-stop, in a way that none of the previous films have been. There was no time just to like the characters, no time to appreciate Animal being cuddly or Gonzo's collaboration with Salma Hayek, no time just to smell the flowers and love having a new Muppet movie in itself. That was a problem for me, as it relates directly to my current film phobia: Fast cutting. Fast cutting is a ubiquitous phenomenon at the moment, and loathsome in the extreme. Want to know why I didn't write about or love 'The Lego Movie'? Blasted fast cutting! Mutter mutter. At least the 'Lego Movie' didn't have a demonic cyborg Postman Pat movie trailer preceding it though. That was seriously disturbing. They have done something bad in Postman Pat land. Beware, little children, beware.
In any case, back to the Muppets, and the questions above. The first question is the most conflicting. This whole blog could end up reading as if the movie is bad or that I hated it. Neither of those is true; I just didn't love it, which is a crime for a Muppets movie. Again, pacing is a massive issue here. So many jokes, and good ones, didn't get to land as they went by so quickly. There were very few moments which were allowed to linger for their full effect. My whole being wants to love Muppet movies, but this one didn't stick around long enough to be loved.
The second question is easier, as it probably is a pretty good movie by modern standards. It's not as good as 'The Muppets' but then that had five years of preparatory work spent on it, whereas this did not. On the other hand, the pacing is a monumental problem personally so who am I to say? Who can be the fair arbiters of these things? My suspicion is that it's good movie for people who aren't me. It was even a good movie for me, just one that could have been great.
Finally, the third and most vital question. This is the most conflicting and confusing question of them all. At an instinctive level, this is a not a good Muppet movie. How that is true when it is packed full of so many authentic Muppet moments, homages, and even has Sam the Eagle's only significant role in a film is beyond me. Every Muppet appears that I can think of, every single one, and yet it's not quite a good Muppet movie. 'The Muppets' was, despite some tonal issues, but this somehow now. How was it now? I have no idea. None. The Muppet voices were worse than last time, but that's not enough to kill Muppetiness. Perhaps it was the explosions and frog martial arts? It could be that, as non-silly violence and Muppets do not mix. Animal and Sam both had big parts but still it didn't quite work. What was up with it?! This might be a personal problem again, but it was just a little bit off. Maybe it was Postman Pat putting off the whole thing again.
Blasted Postman Pat and his laser-powered cat. I shudder. Ignore the whole post; Postman Pat and a science fiction Tarzan ruined it all.
O.
Wednesday, 2 April 2014
Three Hundred
Three hundred Quirky Muffins will have been displayed for all the world to see with the advent of this post. Every one hundred posts it becomes time to stop and think about what the meaning of this silly project is. Or even if it really needs to have a meaning. Not everything needs a meaning or a purpose.
What began as a regular blog became a bizarre challenge. How could it be possible to keep on writing when in essence everything is rather boring? Could it be possible to lift whole posts and structure them around random word definitions? Would a mostly impersonal and non-biographical blog be maintained through occasional bouts of authorial apathy and mania? Would the occasional impingement of actual readers cancel some of the undoubtedly therapeutic effect of writing the Muffin?
Over time new challenges crept in, as books and movies and other media were dissected, but not for critical worth but rather for their enjoyability. (Critical worth is often one of the most tedious things to be found anywhere.) We should aspire to be more positive about things ("Say yes more!"), not negative, and that is the target that is occasionally hit with the full force of a meringue falling from ten thousand metres here. Stories crept in too, of dubious merit, but occasionally with what I would like to think of as originality and novelty value. 'Wordspace' must surely be one of a kind, if only in its original conceit!
So, three hundred posts in, where next? It's undoubtedly harder than it used to be, overloaded as the author is with Mathematical nonsense most of the time, which clogs up the wells of creativity just as creativity negates research. The Quirky Muffin will go on, picking up foibles along the way, and then casting them about for none to see. At the top of the page the Muffin retains its original mandate: "The mental meanderings of a maths researcher with far too little to do, and a penchant for baking." Apart from the baking that has always been true, although time for meandering has been short of late, and those meanderings are the lifeblood of remaining sane. Baking went away a long time ago, alas.
Boggle and blarney, the word `sane' reared its ugly head! There can be no sanity as long as Kirk lives! The Quirky Muffin is undoubtedly one more thing: Genre-based. From Star Trek to Doctor Who, from Superman to the Sensational She-Hulk, and from Roger Zelazny to Patrick O'Brian this is a place to be special. We don't wallow in conventional dramas or the random vicissitudes of domestic life. This is a place and a time that was forged in the final emergence of the 'Eternal Man resplendent in the aura of his full power', the feel of the cobbles under Sam Vimes' cheap boots, and the 'long banked fires visibly reigniting in Kirk's eyes'. The origins lie with Mother's Winnebago with its big waterbed and kitchen, Bond watching Dr No slip into the superheated water and Claude Rains cracking up as Jimmy Stewart's filibuster crumples into its traumatic and overwrought conclusion. New things (to me) and old all mixed together as William straps a lance to his arm to charge his nemesis and Atom the Sparring Robot steps up one last time, while Alex Rogan takes a trip to the stars. Everything comes from somewhere and it's not all nostalgic reverie.
The Quirky Muffin comes from me, Oliver Bain, Doctorate at Large. There are still a few things left to write about, so be ready, and expect the totally expected.
O.
PS Points available for every reference.
What began as a regular blog became a bizarre challenge. How could it be possible to keep on writing when in essence everything is rather boring? Could it be possible to lift whole posts and structure them around random word definitions? Would a mostly impersonal and non-biographical blog be maintained through occasional bouts of authorial apathy and mania? Would the occasional impingement of actual readers cancel some of the undoubtedly therapeutic effect of writing the Muffin?
Over time new challenges crept in, as books and movies and other media were dissected, but not for critical worth but rather for their enjoyability. (Critical worth is often one of the most tedious things to be found anywhere.) We should aspire to be more positive about things ("Say yes more!"), not negative, and that is the target that is occasionally hit with the full force of a meringue falling from ten thousand metres here. Stories crept in too, of dubious merit, but occasionally with what I would like to think of as originality and novelty value. 'Wordspace' must surely be one of a kind, if only in its original conceit!
So, three hundred posts in, where next? It's undoubtedly harder than it used to be, overloaded as the author is with Mathematical nonsense most of the time, which clogs up the wells of creativity just as creativity negates research. The Quirky Muffin will go on, picking up foibles along the way, and then casting them about for none to see. At the top of the page the Muffin retains its original mandate: "The mental meanderings of a maths researcher with far too little to do, and a penchant for baking." Apart from the baking that has always been true, although time for meandering has been short of late, and those meanderings are the lifeblood of remaining sane. Baking went away a long time ago, alas.
Boggle and blarney, the word `sane' reared its ugly head! There can be no sanity as long as Kirk lives! The Quirky Muffin is undoubtedly one more thing: Genre-based. From Star Trek to Doctor Who, from Superman to the Sensational She-Hulk, and from Roger Zelazny to Patrick O'Brian this is a place to be special. We don't wallow in conventional dramas or the random vicissitudes of domestic life. This is a place and a time that was forged in the final emergence of the 'Eternal Man resplendent in the aura of his full power', the feel of the cobbles under Sam Vimes' cheap boots, and the 'long banked fires visibly reigniting in Kirk's eyes'. The origins lie with Mother's Winnebago with its big waterbed and kitchen, Bond watching Dr No slip into the superheated water and Claude Rains cracking up as Jimmy Stewart's filibuster crumples into its traumatic and overwrought conclusion. New things (to me) and old all mixed together as William straps a lance to his arm to charge his nemesis and Atom the Sparring Robot steps up one last time, while Alex Rogan takes a trip to the stars. Everything comes from somewhere and it's not all nostalgic reverie.
The Quirky Muffin comes from me, Oliver Bain, Doctorate at Large. There are still a few things left to write about, so be ready, and expect the totally expected.
O.
PS Points available for every reference.
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